


Dinner and Handkerchiefs

by StrandsofNehn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Realization of love, Sweet, short and sweet, teasing Alistair is so much fun, tid-bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 18:10:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5675623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrandsofNehn/pseuds/StrandsofNehn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A blip from the Warden and Alistair's early days. Short and sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner and Handkerchiefs

It's a gentle realization, when it comes. She always thought it would be a grand declaration in her thoughts, an immediate sense of knowing, but it's not like that at all. She's preparing dinner, of all things, cutting a few vegetables they managed to purchase at the last village with her dagger, (she's pretty sure she got all the blood off it) and it just comes to her.

This soup may be the worst she’s made yet. At least it's not Alistair's night, as much as she loves him she doesn't think she could handle another cooked-to-mush stew.

She's dropping the carrots in the pot over the fire when it clicks. She loves Alistair. She nearly misses the pot. She loves Alistair, when did that happen?

"Something you need, my dear? You look stuck." His voice gives her a start and she ends up all but throwing the remaining carrot slices into the pot, sending boiling water flying. It’s only a half a second later to find her hand fell victim to the splatter.

"Oh! For the love of-" Furiously she tries to wipe her hand against the cotton of her shirt to get the water off.

There's the familiar clink of metal and Alistair's beside her, handkerchief at the ready, "Let me." He takes her hands with all tenderness, like he doesn't care she's killed men, dragons, and darkspawn. She's more than capable of handling herself, he knows that, but he loves her. She wonders when he'll pluck up the courage to tell her. She wants so badly to say it back.

"Maker’s breath, what happened?" Oh, she loved the way his eyes crinkled and shined with that warm, homey thing, that love when he teased her, "Fereldan's last hope- taken down by carrot and rabbit soup."

Her callouses catch on his as he finishes his wrapping, but it's a roughness she's not sure what she would do without. "If I'm so clumsy with dinner, I can't be trusted, surely, with the entirety of Ferelden...” She gives him a smile, all mischief and trouble, “Maybe you should lead for awhile."

"I think you are forgetting my earlier statements on that matter. You know, us getting lost,” He nods along with each of his ‘points’, “People getting killed oh, and me losing my pants in the middle of no-where."

Oh, he was too easy. "You say that last like it's a bad thing." Alistair's face flushed scarlet and she had to laugh as she gave her hand a brief inspection, "Thank you, love."

With a kiss to the corner of his mouth she left him to resume her task, and her fingers trace the bit of cloth around her palm. Stirring the terrible almost-soup, the warm feeling of home unfurles in her chest as she pictures his face when she called him 'love'.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, and critiques are always appreciated! Let me know what you think! I've never really written Alistair before. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
